


The Dustiest Nun in Drearburh

by CharismaticAlpaca



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Sharing a Bed, post pool scene, rated t for weaponized booby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharismaticAlpaca/pseuds/CharismaticAlpaca
Summary: This singular page is inspired by that one worn-out scoop neck nightgown I have that does The Thing
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	The Dustiest Nun in Drearburh

Harrowhark woke to sun creeping in the window around the blackout curtains.

  
She did not wake up to Gideon sawing logs next to her, for once. That had happened about four times during the night. Some cavalier she was; sleeping soundly through everything that made Harrow jerk awake with a hand halfway to the bone studs in her ear.

  
Gideon was curled on her side, facing Harrow, within arm’s reach as they’d agreed. It was stupid to risk sleeping with the distance they’d been maintaining, when there was a murderous… something on the loose, and that aside, after their conversation in the salt water neither of them cared to keep it up as much.

  
They’d cared less and less with each passing day, in fact, and since all of their cohort already smugly acted as though they knew what her and Gideon’s relationship was _really_ like there was no point in insisting it was anything different in front of them.

  
It took her a long time to settle back into her waking body, since this had been a gentle awakening, no sounds or changes in pressure or warmth of a new body packed full of thalergic haloes to jolt her to consciousness. She felt first, rather than saw, that her nightshirt had shifted during the night, and the chill over her skin was a result of half of her chest being completely bared to the morning air.

  
Gideon was sound asleep, those golden eyes closed. Gideon had not yet seen. She moved to put it right and then stopped.

  
There was, when she thought about it, another option. The option to not fix it. To leave what the sleeping woman next to her would probably refer to as ‘one whole ice cube tit’ bare to the world. No, not the world, just the aforementioned woman.

  
Gideon really didn’t know how warm she ran.

She could find out. Harrow could show her.

  
It was food for thought. And as long as she lay very, very still, chances were that it would be a good while before Gideon woke up on her own. She could run through possible scenarios. There were many. A few made her cheeks feel hot. She liked it.

On an average day, Harrow wanted sex or anything sex-adjacent about as much as the dustiest nun in Drearburh might. But the thing was, ‘average’ did not, in fact, mean ‘every,’ and the other thing was that she’d really liked the way Gideon’s lips had felt on hers the night previous when they’d gone to bed, and the third thing was that she loved it when those eyes landed on her, and this might just give her an opportunity to make those eyes go exactly where she wanted them to.

Options weighed, consequences considered, cost-benefit analysis examined, she left it be. And she also threw one arm behind her head, just because.

That movement woke Gideon. It was a remarkably small thing, and Harrow had to grudgingly return some credit, because her eyes flicked open almost immediately and she yawned and shifted and glanced about the room as though to make sure they weren’t being attacked. _She had better hope we’re not,_ Harrow thought.

After another gigantic yawn she looked back to Harrow, great yellow eyes blinking sleepily — on, off, on, off, like a pair of floodlights — and she mumbled, “Good—”

And then she saw. Her eyes flicked down, then widened and went right to the ceiling. “Nonagesimus,” she said, her tone businesslike. Carefully. “Boob out.”

  
Harrow gave it a good, long pause, because Nav didn’t get anything for free. A rounded ten seconds, then she said, “I know.”

  
“Oh. Oh? _Oh._ ” Gideon went through about five emotions in the space of a second, and as always, they were reflected on her face. It gave Harrow distinct pleasure to watch them play out, and to then watch her plan meet with success as that aquiline gaze landed, lingered, just where she intended. She tucked her chin, inhaled deeply, and watched Gideon Nav turn red.

  
And the morning had barely begun.


End file.
